


So Far, So Good

by WearyBlues



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Allusions to Violence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon, Loss of Limbs, Multi, One-Shot, Threesome - M/M/M, and probably is, but someone does lose a leg, can definitely be read as friendship, ish, they are all Not Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 13:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8163742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WearyBlues/pseuds/WearyBlues
Summary: Red Harvest will never understand the white man's world.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just like these three??? That's all I can say I'm sorry

Red Harvest may not be well versed in the ways of white men, but even he can sense that Faraday really means no harm. Though Faraday may not be purely friendly in his motives, given he spends every waking hour trying to get a rise out of one member- or all members -of their suicidal band, Red Harvest knows he is not alone in the torment.

He would also be more suspicious of Faraday’s focus on him, but Faraday and Vasquez poke and prod at each other constantly, and sometimes even come to blows. Often, it is left to Chisholm to pull them apart. 

So in the beginning, Red Harvest understands. Faraday bumps shoulders with him, Vasquez steals food from his plate, and they both bicker over who can handle more drink.

It’s only when Faraday and Vasquez start looking at him oddly that Red Harvest gets suspicious.

-

It starts out innocently enough. 

When Faraday and Vasquez pinch food of his plate, they remedy it by forcing some of their own alternatively suspiciously tangy and painfully bland food on him. Red Harvest doesn’t like the white people’s food, but Faraday insists he simply “Hasn’t had the real stuff.” Red Harvest doesn’t know what “real stuff” Faraday is talking about, but he doesn’t really want to know.

Vasquez seems to agree, muttering to him conspiratorially, “You’re goddamn right, red man. Everything Faraday cooks up stinks like an unwashed whore.” For that, Faraday bounces a old tin can off of Vasquez’s forehead. 

It feels oddly comfortable, Faraday whining about “Fuckin’ Mexicans” and Vasquez flicking bits of overcooked hare at him. Soothed by the soft crackling of the fire, Red Harvest sleeps more soundly than he has since leaving his family.

When Red Harvest wakes up the next morning, the routine begins again.

-

In the meantime, Red Harvest observes the other members of their posse.

Emma and Teddy are the easiest to pin down. A widow and her friend seeking revenge in the form of gunslingers from every nook and cranny of the west. Red Harvest doesn’t mind them, but he knows they are leading them all to death.

Chisholm is a little harder. The man has weathered uncountable storms, but hasn’t cracked like Goodnight has. Against his better judgement, Red Harvest finds himself liking the man.

Red Harvest likes Billy and Goodnight, too. They hold each other up in a way Red Harvest can only dream of. When he watches them over the fire at night, their heads are pitched close together and they are absorbed in quiet conversation. Red Harvest knows the looks they share, but no one cares to mention it.

Red Harvest doesn’t like Horne. No one questions this, they have no reason to be surprised. Red Harvest _really_ _really_ doesn’t like Horne.

He doesn’t know what to make of Faraday and Vasquez. When Red Harvest watches them, they seem to switch between animosity and amiability without missing a beat. Sometimes, he is caught between the two of them as they throw sand at each other, or get so drunk that they pick fights with barnyard animals. 

Sometimes, it almost seems like the two of them are trying to bring him into their fold. Sometimes, he want to. 

And it all starts with the gun metal-heavy looks.

-

It’s the night before the battle, and they are all trying to drown their nerves with liquor. Faraday is smoking, quiet for once. Vasquez is running his fingers up and down the barrel of one of his guns, watching the darkening horizon, equally quiet. 

Red Harvest follows his own pre-battle ritual. He checks his arrows, his bow, tucks a gun in the band of fabric at his waist. He dips his finger in battle paint, but doesn’t put it on yet. When he walks back out to the porch, Vasquez turns to him and smiles wryly. 

“Enjoying your final hours?” Vasquez ask, propping his rifle against the wood paneling of the saloon.

Red Harvest shrugs, so Faraday cuts in. “Best way to spend them, drunk outta your mind and knee deep in whores.” 

“Maybe your idea.” Red Harvest surprises himself, it evidently surprises them, too. 

“Then how would you spend your very last night on earth?” Faraday squints at him, lips puckered around a cigar. 

“As far away from you as possible, if he’s smart.” Vasquez grins back at Faraday, then they both look at him. 

Red Harvest doesn’t like having eyes on him, dark and searching. Without a word, he stalks past them both and lets himself melt into the night. Later, he can hear Vasquez and Faraday talking quietly in their shared room. Red Harvest listens as his name passes through their lips, and falls asleep to their hushed voices. 

-

When Red Harvest sees the orange sun rise the next morning, he doesn’t think he will see another. Maybe this will be the end of his path, maybe not. 

He doesn’t think he will see Vasquez or Faraday, or any of their parade of tumbleweed trash again, but he does. Miraculously, they all survive, more or less.

Faraday loses a leg. He lays in a bed for days, staring up at the ceiling. He won’t talk to Chisholm, or even Vasquez. 

When Red Harvest goes to see him, they don’t talk either. Though he thinks maybe Faraday is relieved by the silence. But even when Faraday’s face crumples and muted sobs work their way up his throat, Red Harvest is quiet. He knows the white man’s shame for tears. 

At one point, it is Goodnight that goes into see Faraday. They talk for a long time, and when Goodnight comes out, face looking older and more tired than it had before, he beckons Vasquez over. 

Red Harvest can see his hesitation. The Mexican man had ended up with hardly a scratch on him, and Red Harvest can taste his guilt thick in the air. But Vasquez does go in, and when he comes back out, he nods Red Harvest inside. 

They sit together for a long time, looking at each other, then away. The stump of Faraday’s leg is painfully apparent, and he can see Vasquez’s fingers twitching to touch. 

Finally, Faraday lets out a choked off laugh. “Well, Jesus, you two. What is this, my goddamn funeral?”

Vasquez chuckles and pats Faraday’s shoulder. “Almost, you son of a bitch.” 

They both laugh, then their eyes are on Red Harvest again. 

Red Harvest takes a deep breath, then looks Faraday in the eye. “Don’t be ashamed.” 

This seems to surprise the both of them. Vasquez turn to look at Faraday serious. “We’re not kidding around. No fucking shame for fighting as hard as you can. Never.” 

Faraday scoffs, but they both know the issue is not closed. 

-

It is another two weeks before the town’s doctor lets Faraday leave. As soon as the words are out of the poor man’s mouth, Faraday is up like a shot. 

Red Harvest, Vasquez, and Faraday spend the night getting stupid-drunk. When Red Harvest wakes up, Vasquez is sprawled over him, snoring loudly, and Faraday is half on the floor. They make plans to leave later that day, once their collective headaches are gone. 

So Red Harvest bids the rest of their band goodbye. But not Horne, never Horne.

Chisholm is pounding Faraday on the back in gratitude, and Vasquez is leering at Emma for ol’ times sake as Red Harvest readies their horses. Of any of them, he makes sure to bid goodbye to Chisholm. 

The rest of them stay in Rose Creek for longer, maybe forever. But when they ride out, Red Harvest knows he has found his path, one with a new family. 

And even though the sun is hot and the land is foreign, with the sounds of Vasquez and Faraday’s bickering in the background, Red Harvest feels at home.


End file.
